Dixon's Place
by stupidromantic
Summary: After years of dealing with the loss of her family on her own, Beth decides she needs a job. An old friend of her father get's her job as a waitress at a divey roadhouse bar. Dixon's.
1. Chapter 1

My Dad's friend Carol was the one who got me the job. Carol even gave me an old apron of hers to have for the first day. It tied around the waist and had a faded Miller Lite logo on it. I loved it. I loved how it was worn and weathered and mine. When I got to the restaurant, Carol hugged me tight before looping her arm through mine and tugging me along for a tour of the place.

The place was a roadhouse. Old school, classic. Carol told me that onetime a filmmaker came through and asked if he could film some scenes in the place because he'd never seen anything like it. Said it was "stuck out of time." I asked her if he'd ended up filming something here. Carol just laughed, saying the owner was not too keen of the guy, and sent him on his way.

And maybe it was. The booth seats had cracks in them after years of wear and tear caused by lots of butts sitting on them. Regulars' butts. Most of the guys who came buy were regulars. Rough looking guys who people think are racist or simple. Sometimes they are. Sometimes they're not.

It was a simple building, not much to look at from the outside. But when you step inside it's like you're back in the warmth of your mother's womb. Not my words. Tyreese told me that, when he joined Carol on our little tour. He's the cook, and he's got a big smile.

Tyreese isn't wrong about the whole womb things. I'd come in from outside, where there was a bite in the January air. It gets especially cold out here, where there's not much else around but this place and the road. But inside it's warm and too cozy. It's old but I bet this is where Urban Outfitter's get their inspirations. There's colorful Christmas lights hanging everywhere, all year. There's a couple of hunting trophies hanging on the walls: bucks. It's all wood paneling. There isn't a fireplace, but it feels like there could be.

There's a bar and about 15 booths. A couple of tables. "For fat or old people who feel uncomfortable in the booths." I laughed too much at that. Tried to stop myself from laughing as she continued on her tour. I don't know why it was just so funny to me. Don't think I'd ever heard someone be so frank before.

Right now, every patron was at the bar, watching a Western that was playing on the one TV.

It's right off a one lane highway. "Lotsa bikers comin' through here. You let me know if they give you any trouble." Tyreese said with that big smile of his. "They're scared of us black folk."

I chuckled, because he had a little twinkle in his eye as he said it. Gave me a wink so discrete I barely caught it. He's the kind of guy you can't help but instantly like. Before I had a chance to respond, he'd disappear. Gone to smoke a cigarette, I figured.

Carol said there had been a big stink when the State outlawed smoking indoors. Even though it had been a couple of years, the place still had the smell of cigarettes. Carol told me the owner still smoked in here, law be damned. He was tight with the only cop who might come in here to enforce, so what was the State gonna do about it. Real stubborn one, Carol said.

I wrinkled my nose up whenever my brother smoked cigarettes, so it's safe to say I was not a fan. But part of me couldn't help but smile at the thought of a crotchety old owner stuck in his ways.

After my day of training, I left the place tired and happy. There's something magical about it. The pay was bad, but I didn't mind. It's just me, after all. No kids to support, no husband to think about. I'm only twenty-two after all, but most have my friends have got little ones. I don't even really need any money really, since I sold the farm.

I just needed…something. A place to come to in the morning and to leave at night. And I think it's this. Staring at the place, I reached into my pocket to grab my phone so I could snap a picture of it.

Dixon's.

It was perfect.

* * *

I've been working here a couple weeks now and I still haven't met the owner. Carol says sometimes he'll go on long hunting trips. I'm not sure why but I was already wary of him, just from the stories everyone's told me.

"One time he punched a guy in the stomach because he grabbed Karen's ass. A paying customer! Punched him right in the gut." Tyreese told me. "Luckily the Sherriff's his best friend. He's above the law around here."

Karen was Tyreese's wife, and the bartender. Getting your ass grabbed as a bartender is sort of an occupational hazard but the guy had caught Daryl on the wrong day.

Oh, yeah. His name is Daryl. Daryl Dixon. Bought this place off his uncle a few years back. He's 37 years old and his brother, Merle, is married to Carol and comes around a lot. Smokes like a chimney and looks like a criminal. He loves Carol more than I'd ever seen anyone love someone though. Makes fun of everyone constantly, it seems he knows everyone in the whole place by name. Everyone's always buying him drinks and Carol looks at him sternly but he just kisses her on the mouth when she gives him the look. When he gets too drunk he calls Tyreese "the Negro" and Tyreese puts him in a sleeper hold till he passes out right on the restaurant floor. Everyone laughs and claps when this happens. I don't think he's racist. I think he's stupid. But everyone likes him. Even Tyreese. The next morning Merle will always come in and give Tyreese a bashful look, and then everything's settled.

I think about what my parent's might have thought of me in here, watching drunk grown men wrestle on the floor of an establishment. What they would have thought of me thinking it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. What they might think of me flirting with the younger handsome bikers who come through and leave their numbers on their receipts.

I think of how delighted Maggie would have been to hear that I even called one of those bikers back and spent the night with him in my little apartment down the way.

It wasn't like me, that. Inviting a strange man into my house. But he rode a motorcycle and had boyish smile. What was I supposed to do? Not call him back?

* * *

Today I came in and it smelled like cigarettes. I didn't think much of it. I clocked in and poured myself a cup of coffee. I had a splitting headache.

Last night, I let Merle buy me shots.

I don't know who I was becoming. Taking shots and bringing strange men into my apartment. But I let part of myself really like it. I know I still had my bookcases at home, and my knitting needles. I know I still liked to watch romance movies and read romance books. I was a little old lady at heart, that's what Maggie always said. But now I was taking shots and being hungover and getting texts from a cute guy who was somewhere in Arkansas now, his bike probably parked outside a motel. Telling me he was thinking of me. Those romance novels weren't so fantastical after all.

I start into the kitchen to ask Tyreese to make me an omelet.

"Oh Tyreese" I say in a sing-songy voice. "I gave Karen my Cosmo last night so you're probably in for some good stuff. I think that means you owe me an omelet."

It's not Tyreese standing by the stove.

It's Daryl.

Well I'm not positive it's him but I'm as sure as I can be. There's a cigarette hanging from his mouth and he's looking at me and it looks like he's trying to hide it but he's amused. He raises his eyebrows at me.

Of all the stories I heard about Daryl Dixon no one told me he was…hot. He's wearing a dark and tight grey button up shirts. The sleeves are short and tight on his biceps. Big. Biceps.

"Hi." I said lamely.  
"You Beth?"  
"Yeah."  
"I'm Daryl." He said, cigarette still in his mouth.  
"Hi Daryl."  
"Sorry I haven't been around your first few weeks."  
"Oh, it's…"

He started scrubbing the stove with a wool sponge so I don't know if he can hear me.

"Fine."

He pauses his scrubbing and looks at me. He's got an intense look. Makes me feel like he's seeing more than I want him to.

"Need something?"  
"Uh, is Tyreese coming in today?"  
"Gave him the day off."  
"Ah."

I turned on my heel, with intent to get the hell outta there.

"He's probably getting' all that good stuff from that Cosmo you lent Karen."

I laugh, just a puff of air from my lips. I'm surprised.

"Sorry if I was inappropriate." I say, with a smile.

He shrugs.

I turn to leave again but he stops me once more. "Whatcha like in your omelet?"


	2. Chapter 2

I was obsessed with him. I mean, I wasn't creepy about it or anything. Maybe I was a little creepy about it. But I wasn't _creepy_ about it. I didn't follow him home or take pictures of him and develop them in a creepy dark room like stalkers do in movies. I didn't do any of that.

But I was obsessed with him. Obsessed with his arms and his shirts. At first I thought nothing would beat the shirt with the tight short sleeves but then he came in one day in a shirt with _no_ sleeves. The day after that it was cold out and he came in in a tight jean shirt with long sleeves and I felt so disappointed.

Then he rolled those sleeves up.

I nearly lost it.

It's not just arms I liked. I like how he got flushed when Carol made fun of him and how he rolled his eyes when his brother was being stupid. I liked how he cooked an omelet and a burger and chicken tenders. Whenever Tyreese wasn't working I would come in the kitchen and give him a sheepish look. He'd always make me whatever I wanted.

And I really really like him. A lot a lot.

It was really inappropriate and my Mama would be so disappointed in me for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush around my boss. And he was my boss. But I just couldn't help myself.

I tried to hide it and I'm not sure how successful I was. I'd look at him as covertly as I could manage, trying to focus on the order I was taking or the coffee I was pouring. But he was distracting. I've spilled more coffee than I'd care to admit. He was always tinkering with something or fixing something or slapping regulars on the back but not talking much to them. He didn't talk much. He wasn't like most restaurant owners, who are supposed to be out schmoozing with customers, making people come back to the restaurant again.

He knew they'd be back. Most of 'em there early in the morning for whatever stiff pour they could afford. Some of 'em not rolling in till later, with sore backs from a day of work or, more rarely, stiff necks from looking over a computer all day. Daryl knew he didn't need to chat to keep them coming back to his place. And most people he didn't know came into the restaurant had a great time and didn't need to see the owner. Carol and me are dang good waitresses.

Once in a while some family on a road trip would stop in and end up having complaints. The burgers were too pink or the omelet was dry and they'd ask for the manager. I'd have to go up to him and interrupt whatever he was fixing.

Today it was a big mean looking man and his cute little wife. My heart broke for his cute little wife, who was so obviously embarrassed by him as he raised his voice at me and asked for the manager.

I went to get Daryl. He was on a ladder fixing something. I'm not sure how he always had something to fix.

"Daryl. Jerk at Table 3. Wants to talk to you."

Daryl sighed and started climbing down. Resting his arms on a rung of the ladder, he squinted his eyes at me.

"He giving you a hard time?"

"Oh, he's harmless."

Karen and Carol told me to downplay if a guy was ever being a jerk to you. Otherwise he might punch him in the gut.

That was something about Daryl. He was protective. Maybe a little too protective.

From behind the bar I watched Daryl go up to the couple. Daryl wasn't the best at looking apologetic, but my guess is that he was offering him a free drink. That's what he usually did, just to get them off his back.

But this guy didn't seem to want to back down and Daryl just stood there looking at him. Really not the best restaurateur, Daryl. Not the most professional demeanor. But that's what I like about him.

The guy got up out of his chair as swiftly as he was capable of and I heard him say, "Come on, we're going home."

"Waitress. What do I owe?"

Oh shit, that was me. "Um, twelve dollars."'

Huffing and puffing, he counted out exactly twelve dollars. For me, he left an extra penny. "Keep the change," he said snidely. Douche.

And then Daryl did something I might never be able to get out of my brain. He tripped the guy. Just pushed a chair so slightly out in front of him. The big mean dude was on the ground and mad as a hornet.

He lost it. I mean really, ranting and raving. Threatening to call the cops. Daryl just looking at him like he was crazy, "I didn't do anything sir. You just lost your balance."

So they left in a huff, his wife looking sheepish as all get out.

I busted out laughing. "Daryl!" I said, "What the hell?" But I was laughing and he seemed mad but when he looked at me laughing he smiled a tiny bit.

"Tipping you a penny when you did nothing wrong. Guy deserved it."

"What if he sues you?" I said, after my giggles had quieted down.

"Eh, no witnesses," He looked around the place. Just Rusty, a regular, taking a nap at the bar with a hand still wrapped around his bourbon "and you won't testify against me, right?" he said with a smile.

"Never." I said.

He looked at me with that look of his and I felt the blood rush to my face. I looked down and away from his intense blue eyes. He was an intense guy. An intense guy who I liked a whole lot.

"You don't have the most typical management style." I said, trying to distract from the tension of the moment.

He grinned a little at that.

"'Spose not."

"He's at least gonna give you a bad Yelp review."

Daryl's eyebrows knit together. "The hell is Yelp?"

Daryl had to be the only restaurant owner in the whole country who didn't know what Yelp was. I felt my eyes rolling into my skull.

"Come here."

He followed me, looking a little unsure and a maybe even a little stiff about being bossed around by a little girl. His employee, no less. I went behind the bar, where I stored my purse, and brought out my phone, opening the Yelp app.

I leaned my forearms on the bar, and he followed suit.

"So it's this app on your phone. It's a website too, I guess, but I mostly just use it on my phone. People can leave reviews about restaurants and a lot of people use it when they're deciding where they might wanna go."

"Well I didn't set nothin' up so we must not have one."

"I think anyone can set it up. Doesn't have to be you."

I typed in Dixon's and there it was: Dixon's Place. Only one picture added, but a bunch of reviews.

"You got 3.7 stars out of 5. That's not too bad."

"S'not good."

"Well maybe if you were a little nicer to your customers, Boss." I said wryly.

I looked at him and I realized how close we were, leaning on the bar, bent over my phone. He smelled good. Manly. Our eyes locked again. He wasn't smiling. He was giving me that look again. I felt hot prickles all down my body.

This time, it was him to break the gaze. He cleared his throat and stood up. "People have too much goddamn time on their hands, leavin' reviews."

His demeanor had changed and I felt that maybe I'd crossed a line.

He walked away without another word, into the kitchen. Probably to finish fixing whatever had been broken.

Maybe he was just walking away because he had stuff to do. But I felt mad and embarrassed. He was probably trying to distance himself because he could sense my obvious obsession with him. I felt a lump forming in my throat and I went to the bathroom before anyone could see me cry.

"You staying for the party, hon?"

Of course I was staying for the party. I'd cooled down since my encounter with Daryl this morning and been looking forward to the party all day. We were closing up the restaurant part of the place early to celebrate Merle's birthday. He'd invited a bunch of friends, who were already starting to roll in. Tough seeming, one meaner looking than the next. But I knew most of 'em were softies. I'd met a bunch of those guys before, and they were hiding a lotta sweetness under their tattoos and bandanas. Some would show me pictures of their daughters or granddaughters with adoration in their eyes.

Just because you look mean doesn't mean you are. Okay, except maybe that guy from earlier.

"Absolutely," I told Carol with a bright smile. "I even biked to work today so I wouldn't have my car."

"Don't you live in the town a few miles from here?" she asked worriedly.

"It's a nice ride. And I'll get a cab back if I need to."

Carol couldn't help but be a little motherly to her, knowing she didn't have any parent at home to be watching over her. "You will be getting a cab back. Or I'll drive you…Bethy, I'm glad you've been having fun here. Don't let Merle be too much of an influence on you, though."

I chuckled. "Quit worrying about me. You have enough to worry about with Merle."

She laughed at that, her shoulders relaxing. "Let me get you a drink, please Carol."

"Just one." I smiled hard at that.

The party was in full swing and it wasn't even eight o'clock. Merle and Tyreese were wrestling. Everyone was laughing because they knew Tyreese could put him right to the floor, but it was Merle's birthday after all, so he was being easy on the guy.

He seemed to be tiring of the fight though because he put him in the tell-tale head lock. Everyone was whooping and hollering, knowing this moment was coming. But Tyreese stopped because Rick Grimes walked in. Still in uniform.

"Off duty" he said, holding his hands up. "Don't stop on my account." He said with a wink.

But the fight was over, and Merle went over to give Rick a sloppy hug. It was an unlikely friendship. No one really knew how the Dixon brothers and the Sherriff came to be friends.

But it worked. And Beth was glad for it. Rick was handsome and kind. She was a big fan of his.

Tonight, his wife followed behind him with a young boy behind her and a little beautiful baby girl in her arms.

Rick's wife started talking to Daryl right away. "Daryl I'm so sorry we couldn't find a sitter I know you don't like her in here around all this but..." Daryl, who had been sitting and watching the brawl between his brother and Tyreese amusedly, silenced the woman's rant by taking the baby out of her arms and throwing into the air, making the little thing laugh. He started nibbling at her chubby arms and I think all of my bones started atrophy because I was melting into a pile of Beth goo.

I'd decided earlier after our weird moment that I wasn't gonna like him anymore. That he clearly didn't like me so why waste any time liking someone who didn't like me. But here he was in front of me nibbling on a little baby's chubby arms and making her laugh.

Seriously, I was a pile of goo. Beth goo.

"We couldn't miss it." Rick's wife smiled at him.

"I got her. Go have some drinks."

So Rick and his wife and their boy made their way to the bar and I couldn't help myself: I edged myself closer to Daryl and the baby.

How could I not go and watch Daryl coo at a baby he had situated on his hip? This rough and tumble guy who punches guys in the gut and trips guys with chairs and has a stern looking face and nice arms was holding a baby on his hip.

"What's her name?" I said, my face still warm from the whiskey shot I'd done with Merle a little bit ago.

He looked a little surprised by my sudden presence at his side. "Judith," he said softly, patting her soft hair as she leaned her head against his chest.

I mean seriously. If I hadn't already melted I'd be melting again.

"Hi Judith. You're the cutest little thing, aren't ya?" She smiled a little at me, lifting her away from Daryl's chest to reach for my necklace.

She was a magical thing. Sweet enough and chubby enough to distract me from the man holding her. I'd always loved babies. Wanted some of my own one day.

I booped her nose with my finger and she laughed. It was a perfect sound. I felt my heart warm and let myself feel the warmth and the melancholy for a moment. It had been a while since I was this happy.

Daryl was looking at me. Again. "You wanna hold her?"

"Can I?" I felt my eyes get big.

"Course." He mumbled, handing her to me.

So I took her and played every game I could think of with her. I walked her around the party, showing her the twinkly lights and the on and off switches in the bathroom, which she wanted to switch on and off over and over and over again. I let her play with my necklace and tug at my hair and she looked at me with big eyes and I felt a small lump form in my throat for the second time today.

"You're really good with her." I heard from behind me. It was Rick's wife.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, you must be wondering who it is holding your baby. I'm Beth." I rambled.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've heard a lot about you! I'm Lori."

"It's really nice to meet you." I said.

"Daryl must like you. He never lets anyone hold her while she's here."

I didn't know what to say to that. It didn't seem like Daryl liked me much at all. So I looked down at Judith. "You've got the sweetest baby in the whole world I think!"

Lori smiled, touching the girl's soft hair. "I think so too."

Later, almost everyone had left but me, Carol, Karen, Tyreese, Daryl, and Merle, of course. Me and Merle were playing quarters and Merle was telling me all about how the government was out to get us. Karen and Tyreese had their heads leaned on each other and they were watching the Game Show Network, which was playing on the TV. Daryl was cleaning and Carol was trying unsuccessfully, to pull Merle from his post.

"You two have an incredibly amount of energy. Beth's young, but you Merle? I don't know where you get it from!"

"Baby you know I'm nothing but energy! I might be an old man now but I've got that Dixon spirit in my bones."

Carol groaned.

I was tired though. Youth be damned. "I should get home, I open tomorrow."

"See, Merle, we're her ride home. We gotta go."

"But Family Feud just came on!" he insisted, pointing at the screen.

"I'll give her a ride." Daryl said. Throwing a couple more empty beers into the trash before coming around the bar and heading towards the door.

I swiveled around on the stool, staring at him dubly.

"Come on, now." He said, tilting his head toward the door.

So I followed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for the amazing response to the first two chapters. I am having a lot of fun writing this. xo**

* * *

I was laughing like a crazy woman. Couldn't help myself. If I calmed down at all and quit laughing and shouting, he would speed up or drive in a windy line to get my heart going again.

Daryl hadn't told me that my ride home would be a motorcycle. I'd been nervous to get on it, hesitant to wrap my arms around his waist. He had a teasing look as his face when I asked if it was safe. Then, after a second more of hesitation, his face had softened. "We're gettin' ya home safe. Scouts honor."

So now we were hurtling towards my house at warp speed. He was shouting back at me and asking me directions and I wondered how long it would take him to notice I was taking him on a couple of detours. The scenic route.

"It's up here," I shouted up, realizing sadly that the drive had to come to an end at some point.

He pulled up to my place. It was small, it was quiet, but it was mine. Just a little cottage on the corner of a small town, Willow's Creek. It was the closest town to Dixon's but people were usually coming through from the other direction. The town on the other side, a few more miles away had a Walmart and stop lights.

My town had a general store instead of a Walmart. Stop signs, not stop lights But I liked it that way. Daryl pulled up right in front of the porch. My porch with my porch swing. The wood might be splintered but those were _my_ splinters. I owned every one of those splinters.

I swung my leg to get off the bike, taking a peek at Daryl.

"You live here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"This place is like a five-minute drive from the bar. We've been riding twenty at least."

I smiled at him slyly and felt my face flush.

"I was having fun."

He narrowed his eyes at me but I knew he wasn't mad.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

I looked back at my little place and thought of inviting him. I thought of showing him everything in my place. I thought of offering him a night cap because that's what adults did, right? I had a cute little bar cart and everything. I could make him whatever he wanted. He could sit on my little white couch and I could sit next to him and we could talk about our lives. He could drape his arm around me and we could kiss chastely, like two fumbling teenagers kissing for the first time at a movie theater.

I caught myself getting lost in the silly fantasy and I realized I hadn't said anything for too long. He was looking at me again. It looked like he was thinking hard.

"What are you thinking about?" I found myself asking him.

He hesitated.

"Nothin."

"Oh. Okay."

I spun on my heel, the gravel of my driveway crunching beneath my feet.

"Hey, Beth."

So I turned back around and looked at him. A rough looking guy on a motorcycle, his face lit up by the moonlight. It looked like I was living in a romance novel, this man looking like that looking at me. I thought maybe he'd say, "I was thinking that I fancy you and want to take to you out on a date" or something crazy like that.

But this was Daryl Dixon we were talking about. Daryl didn't talk like that. Even picturing him saying such a silly thing was the most ridiculous thought that had ever crossed my mind.

All he said was, "G'nite."

"Good night, Daryl."

* * *

Daryl wasn't in the restaurant the next day.

Or the next.

Then the day after that was my day off. I drove to the Walmart and wandered the never-ending aisles and I didn't give one thought to Daryl Dixon.

I didn't think about him when I picked out a new sundress to wear to the restaurant or when I passed the hunting aisle. I didn't wonder what kind of snacks he liked or what kind of groceries he would buy if we were shopping together.

Nope. Didn't give him one single thought.

That is, of course, until I ran my cart into him as he was coming out of the pet aisle.

"You tryna kill me?"

He didn't look surprised to see me here but boy was I surprised to see him. I'd just spent all my time in the store not thinking about him and there he was, holding a squeaky dog toy.

"Wait, wait. Why do you have a dog toy?"

He sighed, rubbing a palm across his face. "Frickin' mutt keeps showing up at my place."

My mouth fell open. "You have a dog?"

"I _do not_ have a dog. I have a mutt who won't showing up on my dang doorstep."

"Do you feed it?"

"I might have fed it once. One time! And now it won't leave me be."

I grabbed the squeaky toy from him, throwing it into my cart. "Alright, you're gonna need some more dog food and a couple more toys. You should get the kong thing, you can put peanut butter in it, dogs love that."

"I'm not keeping this dog, Beth, I don't need all this shit."

"Then why are you getting it a cute little squeaky toy? That's pretty permanent."

He looked at me, defeated.

"What are you gonna name him?"

Daryl groaned.

"Can I meet him? Where is he?"

Daryl sighed again. "He's back at my place."

"Oh. Well can you bring him by the restaurant or something tomorrow so –"

"You should come meet him now."

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I was floored. Daryl was asking me to his house, right now? Is this a date? I did ask about meeting the dog…

"Right now?"

"That's what I said, ain't it?"

So the next thing I knew I was following his bike in my car through familiar streets. He lived by Dixon's, closer to Willow's Creek, but not as near town as I was. His place was like mine. Small, splintered wood, his.

Having some place be yours makes it beautiful. His place reminded me of that. The independence of having something be yours, the freedom of it, and the pride.

At his stoop, sat the dog. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen, a wiry little mutt, waiting for Daryl patiently. He didn't bark or yelp. His tail banged the dirt road, the only sign of excitement. Most dogs would be on top of you at the first whiff of food. But not him.

He waited at the stoop as I got the bag of dog stuff out of my trunk. His tail started wagging more excitedly, banging the ground. His little body was shaking, but there he was, dutifully sitting.

"You're alright boy," Daryl said, putting his palm on the dog's face. The dog leaned into Daryl's hand, instantly comforted by his presence.

I had an inkling Daryl may have fed this dog more than once.

I started scratching behind his ears and slowly but surely, I lured him away from Daryl. I grabbed a bone from the bag and gave it to him. He settled down beside me, gnawing on his bone, as happy as could be.

"He's pretty dang cute," I said, smiling up at Daryl.

Reluctantly, Daryl smiled a little bit too, patting the dog's head. "He's alright."

"I think you should call him Billy." I said.

"Billy?"

"Billy."

"Well, Billy it is."

We sat on Daryl's stoop with Billy and we didn't talk much. Billy tired of his bone eventually and came to rest his head in my lap.

Daryl looked at me, chewing on his thumbnail. "Do you wanna keep him? He likes you."

"No, no. I couldn't."

"Why not?" Daryl asked, squinting at me.

"My mama always said having a dog was like making a deal with a devil. You're gonna love 'em more than anything and lose 'em sooner than you can bear."

I looked down at Billy's wiry head on my lap and already felt an attachment growing in my heart that I couldn't ignore.

"It's better you keep him." I said, fighting off a lump in my throat.

Daryl nodded, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and considering it. "You mind?"

I shook my head. He lit it up and started puffing. I don't know when my aversion to cigarettes had shifted so dramatically, but I had a thought it might have something to do with him.

"I knew your Daddy." He said, cigarette hanging from his lips.

My heart quickened.

"You did?"

"He used to come 'round my uncle's place. My place, now I guess. But back when it was my uncle's. My whole family would drink there all day and night. Your daddy came by to drink sometimes too."

I smiled. He never drank past when I was around ten. Daryl must have been a teenager when he met him.

"He was never mean. Most drunks are mean. He was always nice to me. Too nice. I never knew why."

Despite my better efforts, a couple of quiet tears slipped down my face. "Course he was nice to you. Who couldn't be nice to you? You're just a sweetheart. Can't be mean to a sweetheart."

"Shut up."

I giggled, wiping tears off my face. I felt him looking at me again, in that intense way of his.

"Why you always looking at me like that?" I said, playfully.

He shrugged, looking away. I felt a bubble of frustration in my stomach, feeling stupid for saying anything about it, and angry that he made me feel stupid for saying anything about it.

I stood, suddenly, startling Billy.

"I should probably go. Groceries in my car are gonna spoil an' all."

Billy trotted after me, confused as to where I was going. He was looking between me and Daryl, not wanting to pick.

"Beth," he said.

"Yeah?"

"You're so pretty. That's…that's why I look at you all the time. Cause you're so fuckin' pretty."

I nearly fainted.


	4. Chapter 4

What do I say what do I say what do I say what do I say what do I say?

"Um."

That's what I went with. _Um_. Real eloquent, Beth. You're nailing it. He tells me I'm pretty and all I can come up with is _um_.

"Sorry, I –" he started.

"No, you too. You're pretty too. Well not pretty. Handsome. A looker, a real looker!"

He laughed, a real bark of laughter, not the small puff of air I'd grown accustomed to.

"I gotta go. Groceries melting."

And I left. Ran away. Really panicked. Hopped in my car and peeled out of his dusty driveway and drove faster than I ever had. Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw Billy looking up at Daryl. They were both confused by my hasty exit.

Groceries melting? Why did I say that? Why did I leave? Exactly what I would have wanted to happen literally _happened._ He called me pretty, "so fucking pretty" with a look in his eye that made me shiver. I could have done anything; I could have run up to him and kissed him. We could be in bed by now.

But instead I said, "Groceries melting." I had no groceries that would be melting. Why would I say groceries melting? And I called him a looker, a _real_ looker? Had I not gone to school for eighteen years, done well in English, been on the school newspaper? Hadn't I read countless books and written short stories. Didn't I sing songs in public and speak to people every day, never once tripping over my words?

My Daddy said I had a way with words.

Until now. "Groceries melting." What the hell was I gonna say when I saw him next? "Customers eating, time for Beth to leave this space which you are in."

And I would see him, and soon. I took deep breaths as I drove the fairly short distance between our two houses. Only a couple miles of road with woods on the side. I knew the woods decently well, having spent my last couple of years around here in a secluded haze. Those woods had been something I'd forced myself to go into. A way to get out of bed, out of my cocoon. I pulled off on the side of the road, locked my car, and head into the woods towards a little brook that I knew was close.

Sitting on a little rock, I cried. Maybe I was being overdramatic. But I needed to cry because I felt like the stupidest girl in the world. I just wanted something good. Daryl seemed like something good. But I couldn't even say anything to him to convey that I liked him. A lot.

He told me I was pretty. He spoke so plainly it hurts my heart in the best way. I wanted to hear him say it one more time. I wish I had it on videotape, so I could play it over and over again. I can't believe he said that to me.

And I can't believe how much I screwed it up. Why hadn't I gone to him? Why hadn't I said what I was thinking. "I'm so into you, Daryl. You're nice to me and really handsome and your arms make me want to die in a good way and I think I want to have your babies."

Maybe it's for the best I didn't say that either. But I should have said something. Something better.

* * *

I had a shift that night. I wanted to crawl into a ditch and become a mole person, but I still went. Working at Dixon's Place, his place, felt like the only thing that kept me going.

I rehearsed things I could say to him. Went over a million different scenarios in my head.

I wished I could call Maggie. Tried to ignore the deep ache in my chest at how badly I wished I could pull out my phone and just text her. How much easier it would make my life if she was here to tell me what to do.

He wasn't there when I first arrived. At least, his bike wasn't out front. I felt myself let out a sigh of relief.

Carol was leaving her shift, closing up one table before she could go and leave me to work the rest of the night. Wednesdays were the slowest, so we only needed one waitress on at a time.

But I grabbed her by the elbow as she was clocking out, looking for any sort of help I could get.

"Carol," I whispered. "Can I talk to you?"

"Course, hon."

I pulled her to a corner booth, where some of us employees sat when it was slow. I usually didn't come over here, preferring to hang out behind the bar or in the kitchen. Daryl never sat over here. Maybe that's why I hadn't come here yet. Maybe it's where I'd be all night.

"I like Daryl."

"Ok."

"You don't seem surprised."

"You weren't exactly covert about it."

I felt my cheeks go pink.

"Ok, maybe you're right. But I think he likes me."

"I think so too."

"You do?!"

Carol just gave me a knowing smile.

"I do."

I took a deep breath and recounted the whole morning to her, letting nearly every thought I'd had over the course of the morning, and every silly thing I'd said.

"Sweetheart." She said simply, and kindly, a small smile still playing on her lips. "Daryl, of all people, understands tripping over words. Just tell him how you feel. Don't be so hard on yourself."

It was such simple advice. I wanted to agonize more, but what else could I say? She was right.

* * *

Later, he was there. He'd let Karen go home early and taken over behind the bar. It was her and Tyreese's anniversary. It was slow enough that he could cook and man the bar.

He was cooking Rusty, who might as well put this address on all his mail, some chicken tenders and fries to soak up some of the booze in his stomach. It broke our hearts to serve him, sometimes. What could we do, send him to AA? Refuse him service? We were his home. We couldn't send him away when we were all he had.

I set out a water for him and looked out at the empty restaurant. I wondered if Daryl ever worried about the business on nights like tonight. How did he pay the rent if this was a normal occurrence?

We hadn't spoken. He nodded at me and went straight to the kitchen when he first got here, and I'd been cashing out my last table.

I needed to talk to him. I really _really_ needed to set everything straight and make sure he knew how I felt. Then maybe I could kiss him and marry him and bear his children.

Baby steps, Beth. Baby steps.

He finally emerged from the kitchen, placing the plate of food in front of Rusty and grabbing his shoulder slightly, nodding for him to eat. Rusty complied.

He started cleaning up behind the bar, dunking glasses into the sink and setting them out to dry. Always busying himself with something, never taking a moment to rest.

"Daryl." I said, trying to find confidence in my voice.

Not looking at me, he started. "Sorry 'bout earlier. Shouldn't have said anything. Real inappropriate of me and all."

"No, Daryl, I wanted to say –'

"I'm your boss and we shouldn't be talkin' like that."

"No, I, uh."

Again, I couldn't find the words. He continued washing glasses. I took one from his hand, setting it down, and tugging him by his wrist away from the bar and towards his office.

When we got his office, I looked at him.

"What are we doin in here?" He asked, looking at me sternly. "We don't have to be talkin' or nothin. I know I made you uncomfortable and that's on me and it don't mean work has to be awkward – "

I needed him to stop rambling. Never thought Daryl would be a rambler.

I needed him to stop talking and not allowing me to express how I felt. So I kissed him. Pushed myself onto my tippy toes and pressed my lips to his, ever so slightly. It was soft and lasted barely a second. He looked down at me, confusion playing across his face.

I didn't want him to be confused so I kissed him again. Let my lips linger on his a second longer than before. I was shaking a bit, waiting for him to reciprocate, waiting for him to do anything. I took a step back, feeling embarrassed. Maybe he wouldn't reciprocate after all.

Then, after an eternity, he did. He pulled me towards him and kissed me. A hard searing kiss. Pushed me towards the wall and kissed me over and over again. Kissed my lips my cheeks my neck. Came back up and kissed me with everything. His tongue was sliding against mine and he was sliding his knee between my legs and I felt him pressing against me.

We were crazed. It was not soft or practiced or elegant. It was sloppy and amazing. I felt heat pooling in my stomach, felt myself getting wet. He was kissing my neck and it felt so good I could die. He was kissing my neck and his hand was grazing my ass and I was putting my hands anywhere I could. Running my hands through his hair and looping my arms around his neck so our bodies could be closer together.

The bell on the door clanged, letting us know we had a customer.

We both laughed a bit, resting our foreheads together, and breathing heavily.

He started kissing my neck again, softer, less frenzied.

"We got a customer, Daryl."

"Is prolly just Rusty stumblin' around."

I giggled, pushing him back a bit.

"Does that make it clearer what I feel about this morning?" My lips were swollen and my cheeks were flushed. I felt warm and unsatisfied but happy.

"I 'spose."

I punched him in the shoulder softly.

"Let's go see who it is."

"Fuckin' cocklock that's who."

I threw my head back and laughed, looking back at him surprised. "Hush!" I said, smiling despite myself. I felt warm from my head to my toes. I couldn't stop smiling, and I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to stop anytime soon.

But sometimes you are wrong.

Because the customer was Zach. The bad-boy biker who'd come through, more than a month ago now. The guy I'd slept with, flirt with over text. The guy who I thought was gone. The one fun night I decided to have. No strings attached for one time in my whole life.

But he wasn't in Arkansas or in Wyoming or in California. His life on the road had led him back here. And he was looking at me like he was expecting a big welcome.

 **A/N: Bwahaha i am evil**


End file.
